Vogue not so fetching editor Anna Wintour pretends to be the immovable object, but she isn’t. She’s just a creepy looking neighbor lady with a bad haircut who you discover wasn’t just selling Mary Kay out of her the back of her Kia. Kim Kardashian greatly wanted her position in the fashion world to be officially stamped with a Vogue cover. Kanye felt his lady deserved it for all the bitching clothes she was wearing. Both of them have been wearing as much high-priced haute couture as possible over the past year just begging to be validated. But Anna Wintour kept putting a kindly spin on the fact that Vogue didn’t want to put a hobbit porn star who smelled like Ray J’s asparagus on their their cover. But, magazine sales being what they are today ,Anna Wintour caved with some lame excuse:

Part of the pleasure of editing Vogue, one that lies in a long tradition of this magazine, is being able to feature those who define the culture at any given moment, who stir things up, whose presence in the world shapes the way it looks and influences the way we see it. I think we can all agree on the fact that that role is currently being played by Kim and Kanye to a T. (Or perhaps that should be to a K?)”

Holy crap! I want to strangle this woman with an $900 Yves Saint Laurant cashmere scarf. So, basically, anybody who gets Googled a ton makes the cover now? We should expect Miley Cyrus, Vladimir Putin, and the Norovirus to appear in subsequent months? Yes, we can all agree that Kim and Kanye play the current role of zeitgeist tour guides if you limit the population set to people who have the E! channel on their favorites list. Basically, women who sneak cheesecake bites after midnight and effeminate males who smell like Pantene.

Anna Wintour went on to dispel rumors that Kanye battled to get Kim on the cover:

As for the cover, my opinion is that it is both charming and touching, and it was, I should add, entirely our idea to do it; you may have read that Kanye begged me to put his fiancée on Vogue’s cover. He did nothing of the sort. The gossip might make better reading, but the simple fact of the matter is that it isn’t true. There’s barely a strand of the modern media that the Kardashian Wests haven’t been able to master, and for good reason: Kanye is an amazing performer and cultural provocateur, while Kim, through her strength of character, has created a place for herself in the glare of the world’s spotlight, and it takes real guts to do that.

We have got o shove this woman and her chapped lips into a pneumatic tube and zip her off to the ass kissing department. Where the fuck did she come up with this tripe? Kanye is a cultural provocateur? Don’t you just mean, self-important asshole? Kim has strength of character? Would this be defined by her fucking on camera for notoriety or setting up bogus weddings to bilk money out of media outlets? Really? Who’s next? The failed female suicide bomber in Tel Aviv for showing ambition or Jenny McCarthy for bringing mumps and measles back from the dead? God damn, Anna Wintour. You are my least favorite person. Couldn’t you just stick to being prissy and annoying and faking reasons why Chumly Lena Dunham was on your cover?

Obviously, Lena Dunham is a hella sexy beast. Just look at that modern day Mama Cass splayed across the bed like the world’s most sticky throw rug. According to the New York Daily News columnist Zayda Rivera, that’s not all you simply can’t deny about Lena:

There’s no denying Dunham’s unwavering talent and how far she’s come from her days as a shy and maybe even awkward kid growing up in New York City.

Fuck, who would deny the obvious? Unwavering? How about majestic and delivered from the hand of God himself?. Zayda felt the need to pile on the compliments for new Vogue cover girl, Lena Dunham, who the magazine dubs as the new queen of comedy. Somewhere Melissa McCarthy is angrily consuming hot dogs like Joey Chestnut and figuring out how to get some reasonably legitimate medium to show off her tits. While Vogue editor Anna Wintour may not be a fan of Kim Kardashian, she’s been infatuated with Lena Dunham since first her chilled and bony hand shook Lena’s flabby dominant paw at a Vogue charity event last Fall.

If you can wind your way past the Vogue photos of Lena without masturbating yourself into Catholic Hades, you can learn about how Lena was a socially outcast literary genius from an early age, penning poems and plays when other kids were still shitting their diapers;

All my plays were about abortion clinics — girls waiting in an abortion clinic, trying to make the Big Decision.

Lena, you are a true cut up. I wish we could hang. Maybe Zayda and I can scratch away the calloused dead skin from your heels while you regale us with further tales of young life as a feminist prodigy with unwanted pregnancy yearnings. Then when people ask me what made me vomit first, the scaly foot skin or the pompous stories, I can honestly be undecided.

I think chick magazines are better in foreign countries. I’ve glanced at my fair share of U.S. ladies magazines. Every time I get a molar crowned at the dentist I’m perusing a female picture book, because men’s magazines long since went off the politically correct waiting room magazine list. The ladies magazines are pretty fucking boring. But, in foreign countries, where I’ve also had molars crowned, chicks like to see other hot chicks, often naked, and it’s totally cool. Nobody gets sent to lesbo deprogramming camp. Kids don’t become serial killers cause they saw a tit in mom’s magazine. And everybody still buys the right tampons and knows the six signs that their man might be cheating on them.

Shit, I forgot what I was going to say. Oh, yeah, Candice Swanepoel’s in Vogue Spain this month.